Harry Snow and The Philosopher's Stone
by Deezmartini
Summary: The first Wizarding War has ended. But as the Seven Kingdoms attempt to reclaim what was lost in the bloodshed, an old evil returns to the land. Winter is coming.


-HARRY SNOW AND THE PHILOSPHER'S STONE-

-WINTERFELL, NORTHERN WESTEROS, FOURTEEN YEARS BEFORE-

The war was finally over. Edward Potter ran a hand through his hair, gray eyes settling on his reflection in the mirror of the carriage door. He saw his own face superimposed on the dreary landscape outside, gray smog floating over former battlefields like haunting ghosts. Bodies littered the ground, speckled with snow as hungry crows picked at the freezing meat, guns and bayonets sticking upwards from makeshift graves like raised hands. The car rumbled as it trudged on the Kingsroad, leading a convoy of men back to their homes in Winterfell.

"We're almost home, My Lord." Rodrik Cassel muttered, closing his eyes.

"I missed the cold." He said, and Edward nodded in agreement. He had been away for some time, away from his wife, his sons-

The baby in his hands stirred, gurgling in innocent bliss. Edward looked down at the face of the boy he held, eyes closed as hair darker than night stuck to a round head. The scar on the baby's forehead shone between the ebony locks like a beacon, Edward's eyes drawn to it as if it were calling to him.

"Have you decided on a name yet, My Lord?" Rodrik asked, as they both bounced on their respective seats.

"No, not yet." Edward answered, and as if the boy knew he was being spoken of, little eyelids peeled open. Green eyes gazed upwards at Edward, and he couldn't help himself but offer the child a small smile.

Rodrik looked at the boy, and Edward could tell what the man was thinking from the expression on his face. A look of worry, a look of trepidation.

"He's coming with us to Winterfell." Edward said with a bite of finality.

"What of Lady Catelynn?" Rodrik asked.

Edward looked at Rodrik with eyes colder than the snow falling outside.

"He is my son." He said simply.

"Of course, My Lord. I meant no offense." Rodrik bowed his head downwards.

Robert was on the throne. The war was over. Voldemort, the _Walpurgis, _was defeated. But still, Edward felt something in the air. A lingering unease that never truly left- a feeling that stuck itself within his throat, inside his mind and embedded in his heart. The boy closed his eyes again, drifting off into sleep only a child could reach. The carriage they road in lumbered on, coughing loudly as it sputtered black smoke into the air.

_He is my son. _Edward thought to himself, and held Harry tighter than before.

_My blood. _

-WESTEROS, BEYOND THE WALL, CURRENT DAY-

Jonothan grinned, warm breath escaping from between his white teeth. He looked around, and was disappointed to see his happiness was _not_ reflected by his men. Jonothan knew why they disliked him- He was younger, less experienced, but still, his station back home meant that here, as a member of the Night's Watch, he had more station that the regular recruit. At least- an exception was made. Jonothan's Father, Lord Embrick, sent Jonothan and a number of wizards to Lord Commander Dumbledore at the latter's request, and Jonothan consented- only if he were to retain his rankings. Usually, all such things were forgotten on the Wall.

"Come on now, we are wizards, not a pack of whipped dogs." Jonothan said as his horse stirred. He raised his hands to his pointed ears- a trait that marked him as a pureblood wizard, and stretched out four fingers.

"Four days. Four days is how long we have been away from Castle Hogwarts. Most of you have been on Rangings far longer than that." Jonothan said cheerfully.

"Yes, but we usually are led by captains who take their time, not rush into the Wilds like a stray dog chasing after a thrown bone." Darek muttered. Jonothan narrowed his eyes at the man, who was on foot. Darek was older, with a beard that was thick and hardened by frost. They all wore the black cloaks of the watch, but even their warmth did not protect them from the elements. Ice had formed at the backs of their capes, and at the cuffs of their jerkins.

"Is that normally how you address your betters, Darek?" Jonothan asked. Darek held Jonothan's gaze, until finally his eyes dropped.

"No, M'lord." He muttered.

Jonothan grinned again, and urged his horse forward.

"Good. We have been tasked with a great mission, a mission that I have to remind you, since it seems we have lost our zeal." Jonothan turned back to look at his hap-hazard party.

"Rangers have been lost in these woods. Good men and women. We are here to discover _why. _Dumbledore is depending on us." Jonothan said with determination. With that, he lead them ahead.

The early morning sun shone brightly, but it did nothing to alleviate the cold that permeated into their bodies, possessing them like a specter. Trees seemed to curl away from Jonothan and his men, gnarled and ghastly, devoid of leaves. Naked branches sported heavy icicles that hung low, sunlight bouncing between them. The wind whispered coolly, but was strong and hostile. It seemed to take Jonothan's breath every time he opened his mouth, robbing him of oxygen and causing him to cough in protest.

"Ser, I do not know how long we can continue like this." One of his men protested.

"We will not return to Hogwarts empty handed." Jonothan responded almost boredly, and they continued.

They were all armed- as were wizards, with wands. They carried rifles too, a somewhat barbaric weapon compared to magic or the sword, but useful when spell weaving came hard to the tongue. It was also easier to teach a man to shoot than it was to remember lists of incantations, and so it came to be that the wizard would often carry both rifle and wand into battle.

They marched into a clearing, trees circling like waiting wolves. Within it, Jonothan saw black fur half covered in snow, billowing weakly in the wind as the snow attempted to snuff it out of existence.

"What is that?" He asked. He attempted to urge his steed further, but the horse suddenly would not listen to his commands. He kicked his mount, but the palfrey refused, whinnying loudly and throwing itself up in the air.

"Stupid beast!" Jonothan cried, hitting it again. This time his horse kicked backwards, throwing Jonothan from his saddle, and it retreated away from his party with heavy hooves that stabbed the snow. Jonothan rose from the ground, snow seeping into his clothes and wetting them, as stifled laughter spread. Reddening, he attempted to regain his composure, and marched forward to the black fur. As he inched closer and closer, unease began to grip him. He felt _wrong, _and suddenly his mouth was filled with a bad taste, as if he had taken a bite out of molded bread. His skin began to tingle, and the feelings amplified the closer he came to the black cloak.

"Ser! Step away from the body! I have felt this before, during the war!" Darek suddenly called, and Jonothan ignored him. He came closer and closer, swallowing the vomit that threatened to rise in his throat. Ice crunched underneath his books as he stood over the patch of fur.

It was the cape of the Night's Watch. A body was outlined underneath the white snow.

"A Ranger." Jonothan said aloud.

He heard Darek clamber up to him. The old man eyed the body with frenzied fear, and suddenly bent down, brushing the snow away and turning the corpse over.

Jonothan could not hold the vomit back, then.

As he turned to retch, he saw the corpse face in his mind. Or rather, what was left of it. The face had been blown inwards, bone curving into itself and cutting into exposed brain. Teeth curled into their gums, and eyes were pushed unnaturally far into their sockets.

"This feeling- Darek . . . " Jonothan stammered as he wiped his mouth, "This feeling . . . what do you associate it with?"

Darek looked at Jonothan with fear that was so palpable Jonothan believed he could nearly hold it in his hands.

"The Death Eaters."

Jonothan gave a weak smile.

"Impossible. They were defeated years ago." He said with a tinge of hopefulness.

"_Now, aren't we ignorant?" _ a voice hissed from the trees.

Jonothan pulled his wand from his belt, holding it before him as he heard his men do the same.

"_After all the rangers we've killed, this is what they send? We can't use them." _ Another voice whined.

"Who are you?" Jonothan called.

"Show yourself in the name of the Watch!" He bellowed.

"_Your old friend was correct. He told you who we are, and I personally am not fond of repetition." _

"_Nor I." _

Laughter surrounded them as Jonothan and his men inched closer together, forming a circle back-to-back.

"_It's a shame to see so many Purebloods within the ranks of the Watch." _A voice sighed.

"_They made their decision fourteen years ago. They are of no use to us." _

"_So we kill them then?" _

A laugh.

"_Of course." _

Black mist snaked from beyond the trees, landing before them in an explosion of air and snow. From it rushed a figure clad in dark robes, a horrid mask covering its face.

From within its cloak a hand wearing a clawed gauntlet sprang, and swiped for Jonothan's neck. Before he could react, a sword was before him, and the sound of the metals clanging together filled the forest. Darek moved between Jonothan and his attacker, hand on his sword as he reached for his wand. The Death Eater, however, recoiled like a snake, and jumped in the air, behind Darek, and thrust its clawed hand into Darek's back. Darek sputtered out a jumble of words as blood filled his lungs.

"_Ventum Dissa!" _Jonothan yelled as he pointed his wand at the Death Eater. It vanished in a plume of smoke as Jonothan's spell blew Darek's corpse and the snow below it away in a blast of wind. Screams of horror filled Jonothan's ears as his men died before him, their death throes filling his ears in an unholy symphony. He fell over, tears streaming down his face, attempting to flee.

"_Where are you going, Captain?" _A death eater stood before Jonothan. His men were all dead. He was surrounded by the black ones, their masks covered in blood.

"_Wait." _One voice called, apart from the rest. The Death Eaters all turned as one taller than them all strode close, the vicious circle separating to make room.

"_You are weak, boy." _The voice was deep, like rolling thunder that accompanied a storm.

Jonothan blubbered, snot running from his nose and into his mouth as he fell to the ground, clasping his hands together.

"Please, P-please spare me!" He cried.

There was a long silence.

"_I almost want to. Only for you to spread what you have seen here throughout Westeros. To see as men turn against their comrades in despair. To watch as women kill their own sons and daughters, so as to spare them the fate that would await them." _The Death Eater stepped closer.

"_But I think not. You are not the one we want. You are not . . . the one who will carry his mark back to the Seven Kingdoms." _

The Death Eater opened his gloved hand, and a wand slid into it from his sleeve. He pointed it at Jonothan, who could do nothing but sob even harder and close his eyes.

There was a flash of pain, and then, nothing.


End file.
